


Well it's all right, if you got someone to love

by sherlocked221



Series: Bob Dylan; Matchmaker [2]
Category: Bob Dylan (Musician), The Traveling Wilburys, Tom Petty (Musician)
Genre: Crushes, M/M, Matchmaking, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 08:12:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16761331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlocked221/pseuds/sherlocked221
Summary: After Bob tried his hand at matchmaking,  he swore off the thing altogether.But in doing so, he's missing a pretty important unrequited love.That means Tom, Jeff and Roy have to take up the role, a a little more willingly than Bob did.(Finally finished!)





	Well it's all right, if you got someone to love

**Author's Note:**

> I know I mentioned Olivia in the last fic, but... lets just gloss over that fact.
> 
> Also, finally finished!!!! I don't know how good it is. I hope it's not a crappy ending. So many people have said they've enjoyed this fic, so I really wanted to ensure you all got an ending you'd enjoy equally as much!

_Bob_

“Bob.”

I swear it isn’t _totally_ unsettling to walk into a room and find three of my friends sitting down, staring up at me as though they’ve been waiting all morning. Just mildly frightening. I mean, at least it’s only my friends and not murderers sitting with their choice of weapon and the creepiest expression of anticipation on their faces. The unsettling value isn’t quite to that extent, but not far off.

I note that George isn’t there. Just Tom, who is affording me a half smile, Jeff, his other half- aka my single greatest social achievement I can think of- who has his arm around him, and Roy, whose distinct voice it was that alerted me to their presence.

Slowly, I say, “Yes?”

“We need to talk.”

I don’t like this already. It feels like an intervention. Bit late for that. I mean, if it is for drugs, it’s not like they can say anything about using them. If it’s for alcohol, that’s not quite my vice. I haven’t been acting any different than usual that would cause them worry…

Well, save for my recent diversion into matchmaking, but I assured them, after Tom and Jeff got together, I wouldn’t dare even dip my toe back into that social experiment again. It was painful enough the first time.

So, what have they got to talk to me about? I really don’t know. I guess the only way to find out is to pull up a chair opposite them, even if I am feeling just a little defensive. As much as I love these guys, being told to change myself, or people showing… _eh_ concern for the way that I am, doesn’t usually go down all that well. I just keep reminding myself that these guys are my closest friends. They have the best intentions, and they… y’know… love me… or so they tell me.

“Bob, we have to talk about George.” Jeff starts.

“George?”

He hasn’t been acting any differently either. George has always been George. Sweet, kind-hearted and filled with enough love for the entire world, and generous enough to gift it to everyone. And I don’t see why they would need to talk to me about him.

Oh yeah, I forget. That’s what friends do, don’t they? They discuss their friend’s wellbeing and all that. Yeah, that I can do, especially for someone as caring as George.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t you ever notice things about him…?” Tom asks me, as he sits forward. His words are elongated, almost sung, lingering on them a while as though to get me to think about them. It’s like he’s hinting something at me, but the question is so vague, I’m waiting for an explanation. I mean, I notice things about him all the time, just like everyone does. Most recently, I’ve noticed that at this Wilburys meeting, _he isn’t present_. “…about the way he treats you?”

“Yeah, he treats me well, like he does all of us. What about it?”

The three of them exchange looks. I don’t much like being the only one out of the loop.

It’s Jeff who speaks next. I get the sense these guys are following a bit of a script.

“We just think he sort of… treats you a bit different from us lot.”

“What do you mean? He loves us all, no?”

I watch as they all fight the urge to smile. I know them far too well not to recognize the slight sparkling in their eyes and twitching of their lips. I narrow my eyes at them. What have I said that’s so funny?

“That’s sort of the point.” Roy says, “Don’t you think he sort of loves us all in different ways?”

“I guess…”

“And might love you… in a different way than he does us?”

I can’t take this much longer. I’m getting flashbacks to watching the painfully unmoving, seemingly one-sided relationship between Tom and Jeff. This is getting about as far as Tom was before I took drastic action. It seems I might have to take that initiative again.

“What are you trying to say? Because you realise you’re not getting at anything right now?”

“Do you think that George loves you?”

“Yes, of course he does.”

“No, I mean, _loves you._ ”

_Roy_

“Bob’s an idiot.”

“Most geniuses are.”

“Bit too fanboy, Tom. And… that doesn’t make any sense.”

“Are you saying he isn’t a genius? Really?”

“Ok, he is, but he’s not an idiot either. Not exactly. He’s just blind.”

“No,” I have only just wandered into a conversation between Tom and Jeff, catching the tail end of it. I have no idea what they’re talking about, but I can’t help picking the low hanging fruit Jeff has left. “I’m the blind one.”

Tom almost leaps out of his skin upon realizing their little meeting is compromised. It’s pretty funny. But, I mean, it’s not like the very guy they had been talking about had wandered up behind them. It’s only me.

“For fuck sake, Roy,” Tom hisses, though after the initial shock of being crept up on, a smile has stretched his lips, “Can’t you see we’re snooping?”

“Snooping on what?”

The two boys move aside so I could fit between them, Jeff on the left, Tom on my right. In the least inconspicuous manner possible, I join in, peering through the narrow window which seemed to be looking in on the adjacent room. There, Bob and George are sitting opposite one another, each on a stool, George facing us, Bob facing away. I am pretty surprised that Tom and Jeff have been here for a substantial amount of time without being seen, and we’re not exactly trying all that hard to be discreet and yet George, at the very least, hasn’t noticed us.

Then again, he does seem otherwise occupied. In Bob’s presence, the whole world could be surrounding him, crowds and crowds of people, and George wouldn’t notice.

Both the boys have these great beams on their faces and guitars on their laps, and though the room is meant to be soundproof, laughter sounds, loud enough to seep out for the others to hear.

But this isn’t a remarkable scene. I could walk into any room where Bob and George have been alone and see the same thing. Either George would act like a teenage girl with her boyfriend who she certainly has not been making out with prior to her parents walking in, or I’d be pretty much invisible, much like we are now. In fact, that would be more amusing to me compared to standing out here, staring at George being George, and Bob being Bob.

“So, why is Bob an idiot?” I ask. I don’t know why I’m whispering, but all this spying business has me worried, even through the sound proof walls, I’ll be heard.

At least I’m not the only one. Jeff may’ve been using his normal volume speaking to Tom before I turned up, but he adopted by secretive tone, “Remember when he decided to play matchmaker? Well, it’s funny how some people can see attraction in others, but they fail to notice when someone is attracted to them.”

“Wait…” I turn to face Jeff, “Are you telling me he doesn’t know George is all over him?”

_Tom_

“We’re agreed we’re going to do something about this, right?”

“What do you think we should do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Good plan Tom.”

I narrow my eyes at Jeff, but I can’t commit to the dirty look long enough. I start smirking. I can’t believe we’re going out. Every time I look at him, I’m reminded how hot he is.

Ok, can’t be thinking about that right now. We’ve got more important matters to deal with. Jeff and I are already together, thanks to Bob, and now it’s our turn to return the favour. Because, I bet you anything our situations aren’t so different. I bet George is too nervous to tell Bob anything- even though he is hardly subtle, and it is any wonder how Bob is so _blind…_

Then again, I was in a similar position. Jeff told me he was sure I knew that he liked me. I had no idea. I was worrying he wouldn’t reciprocate the way I felt about him. We were both so stupid.

Not important! I need to stop drifting off.

We need to think about how we can get Bob and George together, or at the very least, open Bob’s eyes to the fact that George is mooning over him like a girl in high school.

“Why can’t we just talk to him?” Roy pipes up. He and Jeff are sitting on a sofa, looking up at me. Jeff, as always, has a gorgeous mini Gretsch in his lap, that I find myself doubly jealous of. It’s a pretty guitar, and I wouldn’t mind getting my fingers around it, but to also be sitting in Jeff’s lap…

“What?”

“Well, he’s not exactly as soft as you and Jeff. He’ll probably be happier if we spoke to him, rather than taking hints.”

“You think so?”

“He was telling me about when he was trying to get you and this one together,” He fondly shoves Jeff, and knocks him from his whisper rendition of Mr Blue Sky, though the chords only falter for a second. If I wasn’t so acutely aware of the sound of chords, or tune of his song, I wouldn’t have noticed. Nor does he seem to, playing as though he wasn’t sitting himself back up straight. “He got so annoyed because you wouldn’t just speak to Jeff. What if we just told him to speak to George? At least then we could gauge whether he actually likes George back.”

Jeff stops playing the guitar to shoot me a quick smirk. I feel my cheeks fill with colour as I looked away. I knew, as soon as Roy had ousted me as a wimp, Jeff would love it. I’m probably never going to live it down, the fact that I got someone else to tell him the way I felt. Now who looks like a teenage girl in school?

Thankfully- or not depending on how you look at it- he forgoes the chance to tease me in favour of doing so later when we’re alone.

But he can’t go without mocking someone, so he turns to Roy, pushing him lightly back and saying,

“Look at you. Roy Orbison; Famous musician by day, matchmaker by night.”

_Jeff_

Bob hasn’t spoken in a while. He’s sort of staring. He’s staring at us, but judging by the fact he has yet to say a word, or reacted to our expressions which have become more and more animated and ridiculous the longer he’s stayed silent, he’s not exactly seeing us. Either he is really high- which isn’t too preposterous an assumption to make- or he’s somehow stunned into silence by a realisation that really should not even be that. This shouldn’t be a surprise.

It’s more of a surprise to us that he is so oblivious. I mean, come on! I could understand me and Tom. I’m not sure about myself, but Tom is pretty discreet. I wouldn’t trust me with a secret like what you’re getting someone for Christmas, but if I really, really, really want to hide something, I am ok, I think. But George? George isn’t discreet about love. Not in the slightest. He loves unconditionally, and makes sure you know it.

And sure, you could chalk it down to Bob just seeing George loving him as he does everyone else. He might be blinded by that. But he is wrong. I mean, I’ve never heard George joke about having sex with me or Roy, or Tom. Oh yeah, he’s done that with Bob a couple of times and Bob just laughs it off, or even joins in. Even if he has said stuff about us, he’s made it pretty clear that, had he the choice, Bob would be his first.

Course, we can’t help feeling just a little jealous. We joke, just as he does, that it’s not fair, that if he loves us all equally like he says he does, he should want to fuck us all, not only Bob.

Anyway, we finally have had enough of this eerie silence, and for as lovely as Bob looks, having him stare blankly at us does prove pretty creepy the longer he does it.

“So, what are you going to do?” I ask him. He sort of snaps out of it, almost visibly.

“Um… about what?”

“George loving you.”

“Oh,” There’s a tone of shock in his voice, as though this is the first he’s heard of it, and the previous conversation never happened, “That. What do you think I should do?”

“What did you think I should’ve done when you worked out I liked Jeff?”

“Yeah but…”

He seemed like he was about to counter the similarities there, like he doesn’t love George back, like he shouldn’t have to say anything to George, because he wasn’t the one who wanted a relationship, but he caught himself before he could lie. He knew it wasn’t true.

Revising his thoughts, he couldn’t quite say any of that, so he stuck with “Why do I have to?”

“Because George won’t. He won’t risk the friendship, but you now know that it won’t.”

“Go on,” I encourage him in an overenthusiastic voice, that even I find annoying, “You know you love him.”

I don’t blame him when he sighs, “Jeff, I mean this in the nicest way possible. Fuck off.”

_George_

“Hello?” I’m a little bit late to the studio today. I had let Tom and Jeff know to wait for me. I practically drove like a madman down here so not to miss anything.

But as I wander in and find my four friends all convened together, leaning in to the misshapen circle they’ve created with their chairs. They look like school girls discussing things as indiscreetly as if they had their hands up to cover their mouths and hands to their ears to ensure they could hear the whispers. I immediately feel like I have missed something.

Not least when, since none of them had really noticed me coming in, they jump when I announce myself.

Tom and Jeff practically burn a bright red colour, the former looking like a doe in the headlights with his wide, baby blue eyes staring wildly at me. Roy almost falls off his chair, and Bob, who is hardly ever startled by anything, looks as though his heart has just stopped beating.

“Are you all ok?”

“Yes.” Roy hardly lets me finish asking my question before he answers. Way to make it believable.

“Are you sure?”

This time, Bob replies, but I half feel like it’s under duress. I think I see Jeff kick him in the shin, just lightly, as though to remind him of something. And when he remembers, he stands up, picks up his old, beige coat and nods at me.

“Should we get coffees?”

“Good idea, I’m parched.” Roy agrees, again all too quickly, as though they’d planned this. Jeff and Tom nod way too enthusiastically. I stare at them all for a moment, trying to understand what’s going on, but I’m just left with more questions.

Like why is Roy talking so fast, and why are the other two so quiet? And why, of them all, is Bob offering to go and get coffees? With me? He’s more the type, if he fancied something like that, to ask- almost threateningly- for someone else to go and get him it. But no. He’s offering to go.

Everything feels a little bit off. I look at Bob, who has lost the glint of shock in his eyes and is going about getting ready to go out, as if nothing has happened. I guess nothing has, at least not while I’ve been here. But something happened before I came.

It’s almost like they don’t want me to know about it. Like they’re planning a surprise birthday party for me and need me out of the studio. But I’m pretty sure… yeah it’s not my birthday for a good few months. It’s strange, but I trust my friends enough to go along with it.

I look on the bright side. At least it gives me a chance to talk to Bob on my own. I love these moment. I do love all my friends, and love the times I get to see them on their own, or how they are in our little group. As with any group, there are always dynamics, the ways in which each person responds to another. And I like the way Bob responds to me when we’re together. For me, just on occasion, he comes out of that little shell of his. He acts as if it’s so tough, that his guards are always up and impenetrable. Course, that’s just what he wants us all to think. I know, and so do all of the Wilburys, that he’s as soft as the rest of us. He will never go in for a hug, but he’ll quite happily accept one. 

I say a very suspicious ‘see yeh in a minute,’ to the boys, still sitting like statues and watching me strangely closely, before following Bob out of the door. I think I hear one of them call out ‘good luck,’ but I can’t be sure. After all, why would they have to wish either of us good luck?

It’s a bit cold today, the wind is pretty nippy. I know Bob hates the cold, which is all the more reason I’m surprised he wanted to come out and get some coffee. Even if we are going to get something to warm him up, he usually wouldn’t want to be cold for even a second. I watch him plunge his hands into the pockets of his coat and bow his head to hide as much of his face under the collars of it.

The poor thing. I’m not too keen on being cold either, but I don’t want to see him all grumpy like that. I’m wearing an old scarf, wrapped a couple of times around my neck. I don’t really need it. As we walk, I wind it off me and double it’s length up in my hands. I then tap Bob gently, bringing him to a stop, which means I can hook the garment over his head and tie it around his neck. As I do, I see his eyelashes flutter, not in surprise, no there’s another feeling he’s trying to express there, but I don’t really get it. It’s not one I recognise.

“Better?” I ask. For a moment, he falters, just stands there, looking at me. The next, he’s bowed his head again, practically buried his lips and nose in the scarf, almost like a cat stretching out and curling up on a mess of fabric. I take that as a yes to my question.

Knowing that I probably won’t get a verbal answer, I decide to start walking again. Only, Bob doesn’t follow. When I turn around and face him, he looks as though he’s waiting to say something, waiting for me to ask a question.

“Is everything ok?”

_Tom_

Though it’s probably no longer a time that Bob and George are away, it feels like forever. Jeff has to restrain himself from walking the length of the studio building to a window overlooking the street where the two love-birds will return to. Or, actually, Roy and I have to restrain him. As though he’d have that self-control. He’s excited, practically bouncing off the walls. Not that I’m all that different. I’m trying to stay seated, but Roy has had to tell me a couple of times to stop bouncing my leg. I don’t even realise I’m doing it.

Finally, we hear the outer studio door swipe open and shut, and moments later, the inner door does the same, bringing Bob and George and five, steaming to-go cups of coffee in. George, as to be expected, is holding two cups in each hand while balancing a third against his arm and chest. He’d never let Bob carry all of that. But what Bob does carry is his and George’s cups, while George dolls out the rest to us.

Oh, and there is this eerily permanent smile on Bob’s lips.

Practically all at once, while George is busy settling down and taking his first sip of the coffee, Jeff, Roy and I try to catch Bob’s eye. We all ask the same question- though telepathically. It’s lucky Bob is quite good at reading our expressions. After glancing down at George to ensure he is unaware, he looks over the three of us and he nods, the smile on his lips only widening.

That’s all the answer we need.


End file.
